


Fickle Food

by energetically



Series: 15 Words or Less [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Lee Taeyong, Breeding, Car Sex, Come Swallowing, Cross-Posted on Twitter, Difficult Decisions, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Friends With Benefits, M/M, No Strings Attached, Oral Sex, Sex Talk, Smut, Some Humor, Some angst, Spit As Lube, Top Mark Lee (NCT), confident mark lee, emotional attachments, risky sex, slingshot writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/energetically/pseuds/energetically
Summary: Taeyong is willing to stoop pretty fucking low to get back at his ex. Like, fuck his ex's roommate low.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Lee Taeyong
Series: 15 Words or Less [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108955
Comments: 40
Kudos: 345





	Fickle Food

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you follow me on Twitter then most likely you've already read this, but the reception was so good that I just decided to cost post it on AO3 just in case! I'd like to thank [bigdamnher0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigdamnher0) aka [Andy](https://twitter.com/prodjohnmark) for introducing me to this writing style that I use on Twitter whenever I have writers' block. She's an amazing writer and if you haven't already check out her work!
> 
> The idea of this concept is that I use a random word generator, generate 15 words, and string together a story using those words!
> 
> This is my first MarkYong and I enjoyed writing their dynamics so much that I plan to write more for their ship. I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> -Energy

**_~orange~_ **

How low are you willing to sink? At what point do you ignore all logic of reason and maturity in favor of pettiness, spite, and a tiny bit of passive aggressiveness— just to prove a point? Well, it depends on who you ask.

If you’re asking Lee Taeyong: pretty  _ fucking _ low.

It’s not even intentional— well, the actual act of pettiness is pretty calculated, but the origin of the whole shitstorm he’s invited amidst his own typhoon of a life is by no means planned out or strategic.

He had just wanted a bottle of orange juice.

_ Finer Foods _ is the only supermarket close enough— the only one safe enough to venture a visit in the middle of a Friday night when only half of the street lights work and half of the drivers interpret red traffic lights as a gentle suggestion. It’s also the  _ only _ place in the world Taeyong actively avoids between the hours of 3 P.M. and 3 A.M., no matter the day, no matter the month.

If there’s one thing his ex is, it’s consistent.

In fact, Johnny is so consistent, that it's unsurprising to Taeyong that he’s the only cashier available for checkout by the time Taeyong’s handbasket is filled and weighing him down. All of the self-checkout lanes are conveniently deprogrammed for the night, and the sweet girl that gives Taeyong the most welcoming smile from behind lane 1 when he enters is nowhere to be found. It’s just him, Johnny, and the sounds of the rolling assembly belt from lane 9. Taeyong doesn’t need to curse the devil or fate for being so cruel when the pleasure is all Johnny’s.

  
  


Taeyong slings the first few items on the belt— a bag of potato chips, shrimp rice crackers courtesy of Yuta’s referral, a tin of shortbread cookies— until he realizes his repressed annoyance will cost him twenty bucks and a bag full of crumbled merchandise. The orange juice is the last to make it on the belt before he approaches the register, face to face with black hair, heart-shaped lips, and a blank stare that’s more unnerving than he’d like. He doesn’t remember Johnny looking this good when he burned every physical picture he owned of him.

Consistency is Johnny’s own brand of passive aggression, and he follows through with it so well, biding his time to inspect each and every item Taeyong buys before scanning it, sometimes missing the scanner altogether just to delay the process more by typing the bar code in. Anything— any little thing he can think of to agitate Taeyong into a petty argument— becomes his modus operandi. Taeyong tugs the purple hoodie further over his head.

Johnny’s hand stutters when it reaches the jar of Vaseline, eyes trailing to the magazine Taeyong’s purchasing with some handsome male actor on the cover. “Lonely night?” The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s in on some secret that Taeyong is clueless about, but Taeyong  _ knows _ Johnny.

“Fuck you.” Taeyong yanks his debit card out of his wallet.

**_~potential~_ **

Mark Lee is far from a heartthrob. He isn’t one of the frat boys around campus that sets thirst traps on Instagram and he’s no campus crush jock subjected to more than a few admirers. But he has potential. Underneath the linty North Face beanie, behind thick-rimmed glasses and beneath a baggy wardrobe, there’s potential in Mark Lee. 

Taeyong had noticed it once when he first met Johnny’s roommate during a visit to his apartment. Mark’s bedroom door had been wide open, obviously unanticipating Johnny to bring anyone home around seven P.M., and he had been hunched over an arrangement of keyboards and an AKAI controller, fiddling with sounds that didn’t quite hit the ear right. He had covered his hands over his growing mustache like Taeyong was someone important, offered a rushed out apology for the noise, and shrank back into his room after closing his door. Mark was definitely cute, but Johnny was hot and that was that. No second thoughts. No take backs. Do not pass go.

And that doesn’t necessarily change when Taeyong walks out of Finer Foods, bags in tow, and spots Mark shoving a train of baskets into the holding corral. But Mark looks at Taeyong in a way no one has in months as he wipes the sweat from his black fringe with the back of his hand, lips curling into a smile.

“Yo, Taeyong,” he draws out, removing the uniform apron from around his waist and balling it between his hands. “I didn’t even see you come in. It’s been so long!” Mark’s not-so-subtle way of asking how Taeyong is post-breakup and post-Johnny isn’t lost upon Taeyong.

“Yeah,” Taeyong’s breath materializes in a cloud of chilly air. “I figured if I didn’t come out to eat and socialize, Yuta and Jungwoo would call the university counselors.” He laughs at his own joke to conceal the embarrassment of knowing it’s the truth.

Mark humors him and lets out a  _ haha _ that Taeyong’s missed from the few idle conversations they’ve had in the past, and looks towards the automatic doors of the grocery store before turning back to him. “Are you headed home?” he asks, raising his brow.

Taeyong looks at the bags hanging low in each hand and chuckles. “What was your first guess?”

“I just meant—” Mark points his thumb towards the store, “ — I’m clocking out. I was gonna wait to give Johnny a ride home but he’s, like, gonna be here for a while.” And then Mark licks his lips— not in a sexual way, all logic and reason say, but maybe it’s the fact that Taeyong  _ wants _ petty vengeance on Johnny— or the simple fact that he  _ hasn’t _ been touched by another human being in all of six months that perceives it as something carnal. Mark’s eyes dart down towards Taeyong’s  _ Vetements _ hoodie and scan the red capitalized typeface.

**SEXUAL FANTASIES**

“So,” Mark inhales, shoves his hands in the pockets of his baggy khakis, dragging his eyes back up to Taeyong. “Do you want a ride or something?”

**_~advocate~_ **

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Taeyong digs his nails into the fabric of Mark’s shirt until he pushes into flesh. His head falls forward into the crook of Mark’s neck when Mark groans out and reclines further back against the driver’s seat. It’s sensory overload— the synthetic cherry smell from the air freshener blocks wedged beneath the seats, the low steady rhythm of the hip hop song murmuring through the speakers, the jingling of Mark’s car keys every time his knee spasms and bumps into them— but all of it quickly dies beneath the sound of Mark’s bare thighs slapping against Taeyong’s ass.

Taeyong cries when he sinks down to his lowest point. He can’t stop the audible whine that rips through his throat unceremoniously when Mark bottoms out, the tip of his dick pressing into Taeyong’s sensitive walls before brushing against a spot that makes Taeyong shudder. He  _ cries _ because he doesn’t expect Mark Lee’s dick to be so big— so pretty, perfectly pink and cut; a cock to desire in more ways than one. He  _ cries _ when the tip pushes into his prostate a bit more insistently, so much so that his cock slips out when Taeyong jolts up, nearly hitting his head on the car’s roof. He  _ cries out _ when Mark licks into the palm of his own hand, filthy and gross, before slathering his saliva slick across his cock, pushing it back inside Taeyong’s already too wet hole.

Taeyong  _ cries _ because in no way should Mark Lee prove in less than ten minutes that he’s the best sex Taeyong’s ever had.

There’s another realization there, one that Taeyong knows will be waiting when he steps foot outside the  _ Camaro _ , one that his brain is too fucking scrambled to think too much into. He’s breaking a thousand codes of conduct. You don’t fuck for revenge. You don’t fuck a friend. You  _ definitely _ don’t fuck a friend of an ex. But anyone that’s ever come up with such stupid rules has never had the pleasure of being dicked down by Mark Lee at a quarter to one in the morning in the empty parking lot of a shopping center. Taeyong would absolutely advocate for Mark Lee to be an exception to all rules.

Mark sucks in a sharp breath and rests his head back against the headrest as he slips back inside of Taeyong’s hole completely. He holds Taeyong down at the hips and thrusts into him, letting out that damned  _ haha _ laugh— that feels way more antagonistic now than it had before— when Taeyong jolts again.

“Yo, how am I supposed to fuck you properly if you keep falling off?” Mark tries to hide the quirk of his lip. He fails.

“I’m not exactly accustomed to fucking in a car,” Taeyong breathes, grabbing the grab handles on the roof. “Work with me.”

Mark sits up a couple of inches away from the back of the seat and wraps his arms fully around Taeyong’s waist. He pushes up into Taeyong slower, but somehow, with just enough force to push a blissed-out moan past Taeyong’s lips. Filthy. Filthy. The feeling of Mark’s cock, raw, touching every inch inside of him is so fucking  _ filthy _ that precum beads over Taeyong’s cockhead, staining the hem of his hoodie.

It’s only when Mark swears under his breath after another twenty minutes, phone lighting up to display a  _ Where are you?  _ text from Johnny that Taeyong comes. Completely and utterly uninhibited.

**_~inside~_ **

They don’t discuss what happened. Hell, Taeyong himself can’t quite remember how they both ended with globs of his cum stuck between them.

He tries not to think about how fucked up he feels. Did he use Mark? Was he that desperate to one-up Johnny? Was he that desperate for sex? All signs point to yes, especially when he tells both Jungwoo and Yuta against his better judgment, only to receive blank stares back.

“You fucked Mark?” Yuta repeats, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Cute Mark? Johnny’s roommate Mark? What the hell do you expect to get out of that?”

An amazing orgasm at the least. Johnny’s attention at the most. But Taeyong voices neither.

“This must be one of those lapses in judgment things,” Jungwoo adds, stealing the untouched food from Taeyong’s plate. “Everybody fucks on the rebound. Though it’s typically not with someone your ex knows.” Jungwoo swallows the bite of chicken. “You need to dig deep inside of you and do some soul searching, Yong. Maybe you’ll find out what made you even do that in the first place.”

And he does. Or at least he tries. Taeyong _really_ fucking tries.

His soul searching takes him on a journey to Mark and Johnny’s apartment, an apology or some surmise as to how to exactly explain the events of several nights ago at the ready. But all attempts to “dig deeper” only leads to Taeyong bending across the arm of the couch— the couch Johnny specially picked from  _ IKEA _ — digging cum from deep within him as Mark watches, spent.

**_~pace~_ **

They never get around to talking, just fucking, and that’s how Taeyong likes it. Mark doesn’t have any complaints either and everything is just  _ fine _ .

In the span of two weeks, Taeyong discovers that Mark likes his sex risky and high stakes, getting off at the idea of getting caught, and maybe it’s why they’re the perfect match. Some days, Taeyong  _ wants _ to get caught— he wants Johnny to catch them red-handed, if only to prove a point. He wants to rub it in Johnny’s face that he  _ can _ and  _ has _ moved on; how Johnny takes to the idea of Mark being his temporary replacement is really none of Taeyong’s concern.

And as far as Taeyong knows, Mark’s goals perfectly align with his own.

Why else would he bend Taeyong over the small, fold-out card table in his dining room, fucking him to no end? 

Mark fucks him like a man deprived, gripping Taeyong at the hip with one hand, spreading him open with the other. He drives his cock inside of Taeyong so hard that he has to pause to readjust his glasses when they fall askew because ‘ _ I’m not putting on contacts just for sex _ .’ And he pushes in deep—  _ so fucking deep—  _ that a wet  _ squelch _ echoes when he pulls out, precum and watermelon-flavored lube trickling past Taeyong’s puckering rim.

“Oh my god,” Mark laughs that breathless laugh that’s both comforting and unnerving. “Did you just—”

“ _ Don’t _ .” Taeyong grits out, gripping both ends of the table between his hands, the cool surface calming the warmth spreading across his cheeks. “Don’t  _ even _ say it. It’s already embarrassing enough.”

“I was actually gonna say it’s sorta hot,” Mark says. Taeyong hears the smirk in his voice. “I like it a little messy.” He eases his way back inside with little resistance on Taeyong’s part and leans close to wrap his arms around Taeyong’s waist. “Johnny’s class ended ten minutes ago,” he murmurs and nips Taeyong’s earlobe. 

Taeyong knows.

“Maybe we should wrap this up?” Mark doesn’t offer it as a suggestion, more like forewarning, because Taeyong has a small refractory period before Mark’s dick slides back in, digging deep into that tiny spot that whites Taeyong’s vision. Taeyong loses all control of his mouth— moans, and whines trickling out alongside the string of saliva dangling from his bottom lip. The connection between his brain and his muscles dies, rendering him uncoordinated. He tenses then relaxes. He arches until the dip in his back is more of a pronounced curve; he lays prone until his own hard cock kisses the cold table. And right when it’s just enough pressure to bring Taeyong to the brink of ecstasy, so close to his climax that he can see the heavens and star through blurry-eyed tears— 

Mark pulls back. And out.

And then he’s back in.

Mark knows exactly how long to wait. It doesn’t matter how much Taeyong growls out a frustrated  _ no no no! _ Mark does as he pleases. He fucks Taeyong at breakneck speed, the creaks of the rickety table syncopated to Taeyong’s heartbeat— or maybe his ragged breaths— 

And then with a jolt, Taeyong’s teetering on the edge again.

“MARK!” Taeyong tries to yell but it falls out more like a choked-out plea for mercy. “Jesus Christ just—  _ please _ !”

“Please what?” Mark hums. The tip of his cock glides across Taeyong’s walls, finding its way to his prostate.

“Stop being a dick!” Taeyong frowns, finally looking over his shoulder.

Mark clicks his tongue, silently watching Taeyong’s expression with an unreadable face of his own before angling his head towards the sound of heavy-footed strides ascending the outdoor steps.

“That’s Johnny,” he smiles, and Mark fucks into him with one, two, three more pumps, croaking out a long-drawn groan when his cock spits deep inside of Taeyong.

Taeyong has an even  _ smaller _ refractory period of getting his pants up when Johnny unlocks the door.

“What are you doing here?” Johnny frowns, freezing in the doorway, no doubt eyeing the way Taeyong’s hair clings to his sweaty forehead and how his knees buckle until he backs against the table.

“I came to get my  _ Mario Kart  _ game,” Taeyong lies. He doesn’t give a fuck about the game. He had already bought a replacement months ago. “A breakup means all borrowing privileges are off.”

Johnny shakes his head with a disbelieving chuckle and closes the door behind him. “Mark, I apologize in advance for all of the unpleasant minutes you had to spend with him.” he nods behind Taeyong and makes a beeline for his room.

Taeyong takes a look behind him and locks eyes with Mark, sitting in the metal fold-out chair, a bowl of cereal in his hand and a spoonful at his lips. 

“Nah it’s cool,” Mark mumbles through crunches of  _ Lucky Charms _ . “He’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Taeyong wants to knock the bowl out of Mark’s hands. 

And when the Switch game is returned and Mark lets out a, “ _Yo, wait, can I borrow that actually?_ ”, Taeyong actually _does_ knock the bowl out of Mark’s hands.

**_~deprivation~_ **

After the first month, it all becomes second nature. Kissing. Touching. Fucking. Licking. Coming. The first month is revenge sex. It’s selfish and Taeyong thinks he deserves to be selfish for all he’s been through. He deserves pleasure, he deserves to be in control ( — in the grand scheme of things of course. Because  _ obviously _ Mark’s dick game reigns supreme), he deserves to be  **_selfish._ **

But by the second month, he feels guilty.

And when the third month rolls around, he realizes, in mild horror, that he’s somehow become attached and emotionally invested in Mark Lee.

There’s a weird feeling within when he’s denied access to Mark suddenly. Mark’s always been so accessible, always DTF and answering Taeyong’s calls after the second ring. So it’s an odd feeling when Mark becomes less and less available without explanation. Taeyong feels it in his chest— the same sense of anxiety that had plagued him when he dated Johnny, but feeling it because of Mark is...

Weird.

Taeyong’s body craves Mark, but amazingly enough, it’s Mark’s company that leaves a gaping hole. There’s less of Mark crashing at Taeyong’s apartment because he’s too tired to go home in the cold. Mark doesn’t call Taeyong for his “emergencies” that just turn out to be advice on how to beat a tricky level of  _ Cuphead. _ He doesn’t even call Taeyong for his weekly random cooking question— and there’s  **_no_ ** way Mark can create a passable meal on his own for survival so Taeyong knows something is up.

Somehow Mark had become so vital like oxygen.

Taeyong finds it hard to breathe.

**_~sex~_ **

“Seriously?” Mark laughs when Taeyong finally catches up to him. “Taeyong, it’s only been  _ a week _ .”

Taeyong shrinks into his puffer jacket and pouts as he furrows his brows. “Well, it felt like a month.”

Mark laughs on the grocery store aisle, prying open the flaps of a cardboard box, restocking the shelves with canned fruit. “I’ve been known to have that effect on people.”

“God, you’re too cocky for your own good.”

Mark smirks at the unintentional phrasing and Taeyong rolls his eyes.

“I honestly just got bogged down,” Mark says once the box is empty and his hands are free to shove into the front pockets of the  _ Finer Foods _ apron. “Work and school always kill me around this time, y’know? I really didn’t think you would notice.”

“We talk and fuck—” Taeyong says the last part more quietly, stepping closer to Mark when a group of girls passes by, “ — almost every day. You didn’t think I would miss your dick?”

Mark smirks. “So that’s what this is about?”

“No, I’m not worried about the sex,” Taeyong hesitates.

“But isn’t that what all of this is about?” Mark tilts his head. An uncomfortable wave crashes into Taeyong. It feels as if Mark breaks the fourth wall, acknowledging the elephant that’s been stampeding between the two of them since day one. “You fuck me to get back at Johnny for cheating on you?”

It’s self-centered for Taeyong to think that Mark honestly hadn’t realized his ulterior motives but it makes him nauseous to think that Mark has so little faith in him— as if Taeyong’s only perception of him is a good fuck and a good time in the name of pettiness. 

“Mark I—”

“I was born  _ at _ night, hyung,” Mark says, turning to the next box of canned goods, “Not  _ last night _ . What Johnny did was fucked up and if you wanna, like, get back at him and stuff by using me, that’s cool.” Mark shrugs easily. Too easily. “But at least be honest with yourself and to me. Don’t lie to spare my feelings or make me feel better, or whatever. We both know what this is.”

Mark rips through Taeyong, quick and easy like he rips through the box. 

“Right,” Taeyong mutters when Mark turns his back to him.

Mark finally comes over that same night. They have sex. It feels shallow.

**_~correspond~_ **

> **Johnny (🖕) 9:55 p.m.**
> 
> Is there something going on between you and Mark

**Me 9:57 p.m.**

Why?

> **Johnny (🖕) 9:58 p.m.**
> 
> You guys seem...
> 
> Close
> 
> All of a sudden

**Me 10:05 p.m.**

We are close.

> **Johnny (🖕) 10:15 p.m.**
> 
> I see...
> 
> This may be a shot in the dark
> 
> But can we FT? I wanna talk

**Me 10:16 p.m.**

What on earth could you possibly want to talk about?

> **Johnny (🖕) 10:17 p.m.**
> 
> Us

  
  


Taeyong stares at his phone.

**_~ruin~_ **

Taeyong tries to be strategic. He goes over when he knows Johnny is set to work the graveyard shift at the 24-hour grocery store, that way there are no interruptions or an awkward force of admission. He wants to come clean and lay everything on the table for Mark to judge objectively. But he’s only a foot across the threshold when Mark kisses him needy with want, fingers tugging hair, his lips slotting over Taeyong’s fervently.

The kiss gnashes the teeth, spit coats the lips and Mark moans like tasting Taeyong is something he’s missed. Taeyong can’t process what Mark was doing before he entered and he can barely keep his rehearsed words straight when Mark’s sucking them right off of his tongue.

Mark pushes Taeyong down to his knees, his left hand tugging Taeyong’s locks, his right hand palming himself beneath his basketball shorts. “Open,” he breathes as he fishes out his already hard cock and strokes it.

“M-Mark,” Taeyong shudders, breath catching in the back of his throat. He trails his eyes from the precum leaking from the slit to Mark’s dark eyes. “Wait we need to— ”

“We’ll talk after,” Mark says, licking his lips. Taeyong doesn’t miss the resolve in his voice. “Just open for me, baby.” 

The words die off in a whisper and Taeyong trembles. He closes his eyes slowly when Mark drags his thumb across his cockhead, smearing precum all over the pad, and then presses it down on Taeyong’s bottom lip. Taeyong licks his finger— the salty taste driving his mouth to water, saliva pooling on his tongue and he sighs, settling further down on his knees, mouth open and obedient.

Mark drags his cock across Taeyong’s mouth, outlining his cupid’s bow down to the small valley that splits his bottom lip before slotting himself inside. He aims for the back of Taeyong’s throat on the first try and hits the bullseye, touching Taeyong’s uvula and pulling back when Taeyong gags slightly. Mark mutters a soft  _ sorry _ but it feels disingenuous when he pushes again harder the second time.

His dick pushes against the insides of Taeyong’s cheek when he miscalculates a thrust, grazes against Taeyong’s teeth — to which he hisses his disapproval— and dives into the curve of Taeyong’s tongue and stays there when Taeyong pushes warm, wet saliva against the skin. Taeyong travels his tongue to the folded skin at the frenulum and flicks against it, preening when Mark doubles over.

“YongYongYong _ Yong _ !” Mark chants and grabs Taeyong’s head with both hands. He stares down at Taeyong with blown, pleading eyes, silently asking the question that Taeyong anticipates, and Taeyong nods, opening his mouth wider until his jaws ache from the stretch.

Mark thrusts into Taeyong’s mouth erratically, reveling in the wet, garbled sounds of Taeyong’s moans and the slick echo of his balls hitting Taeyong’s lower lips. The spit overflows from Taeyong’s mouth, spilling over the sides of his lips when Mark pulls out and sheathing his cock when he pushes back in. Taeyong can feel his throat grow sore and raw from the abuse but something about the act— the filthiness, the sloppy, careless way Mark uses his mouth without consideration— makes him lean forward into Mark’s thrust, breathing through his nose to prevent himself from gagging. 

Mark fucks Taeyong’s throat—  _ hard _ , like he wants to ruin him. Like he wants to give Taeyong a hard time. Like he wants Taeyong to never forget him. The imprint of Mark’s dick embeds in Taeyong’s throat like tattooed ink on skin, bound to leave an impression that lasts and isn’t so easily removed.

“Shit,” Mark strokes his dick as his thrusts stutter. “Can I— can I come down your throat?  _ Fuck _ , please say yes.”

“Yes,” Taeyong grits out after pulling off of Mark’s dick with an obscene pop. He nods eagerly, tongue outstretched. “Please.”

“You’ll swallow it all?” Mark picks up his speed, stroking so fast that his fist becomes a warped blur of flushed skin. “Promise?” Taeyong whines impatiently.

Mark lets out a long groan and drops his hand from his dick, pushing deep inside of Taeyong’s mouth, and goes stock still as he pumps strings of cum thick down Taeyong’s throat. When he pulls out slowly, he leaves a residual trail of cum streaking down the middle of Taeyong’s tongue. Taeyong makes sure to swallow it all.

Mark steps back, pushes himself back beneath the waistband of his basketball shorts, and leans against the wall expectantly for the words Taeyong had been so desperate to get out minutes ago.

Too bad he’s fucked Taeyong’s voice hoarse.

**_~queue~_ **

It becomes exhausting fast, juggling both.

Johnny wants to talk on the phone when Mark comes over to Taeyong’s apartment.

Mark comes home when Taeyong’s already there, mid-conversation with Johnny.

The two rotate around each other like days of the week, like a revolving door in and out of Taeyong’s line, always returning for seconds.

“Johnny wants to get back together,” Taeyong mutters to the ceiling, pillow tight to his chest.

“Johnny  _ cheated _ on you,” Jungwoo reminds him.

“People can change,” Yuta chimes in. “You had sex with his roommate. You’re even. Take him back.”

Jungwoo shoots Yuta a bemused frown. “Mark is Johnny’s roommate. Not his friend. The score is still 1-0.”

“But the fact that Tae even felt the need to stoop so low to even piss Johnny off this way proves that he still has feelings for him,” Yuta reasons. Taeyong’s eyes stay glued to the ceiling but he hears Yuta rifling through his drawers. There’s a pause before Yuta continues, “Two shit people deserve each other. Work your shit out together.”

“Gee, thanks.” Taeyong deadpans.

“Choose Mark,” Jungwoo nudges Taeyong on the knee until Taeyong looks at him at the foot of his bed. “Obviously the two of you have chemistry.”

“But does he even  _ like _ Mark?” Yuta chimes in. “Or does he just like sex with Mark?”

“I  _ like _ Mark,” Taeyong says firmly. “Sex or no sex.”

“But you  _ loved _ Johnny,” Yuta says and Taeyong winces. “That shit doesn’t just go away.”

And he’s right. No matter how much Taeyong had tried to bury the feelings beneath pettiness, anger, or indifference, there was no denying that he had loved Johnny— and part of him will always love Johnny. But loving someone and forgiving them for their transgressions doesn’t mean all is forgotten. It, in no way, means Johnny is entitled to a slice of Taeyong’s life again. Allowing Johnny back into his space as a lover could prove detrimental if Johnny’s actions betray his words but tolerating Johnny as a friend, watching him go through the cycle of dating other people feels just as painful.

“Love isn’t everything,” Taeyong resolves to say.

“Then what’s the problem?” Yuta pulls out one of Taeyong’s rocker tees from the drawer and unfolds it to view.

The problem is: Maybe Taeyong is a bit  _ too _ selfish.

“Put it back,” Taeyong says when Yuta tries to sneak the t-shirt into his backpack. 

Yuta sucks his teeth and tosses the shirt back into the drawer. “You’re so selfish sometimes.”

**_~bitter~_ **

“Johnny wants to get back together.”

Mark pauses, a handful of  _ McDonald’s  _ fries inches from his mouth. The headlights from passing cars temporarily brighten the darkness inside Mark’s parked  _ Camaro _ until everything slowly fades back to black. Taeyong makes out the contemplative expression on Mark’s face through the faint orange glow of the dashboard controls but in a blink, it’s gone, replaced by a mouthful of fries.

“Word?” Mark says and adjusts the heater, cracking the windows a sliver to let some of the winter air in. He knows Taeyong doesn’t like to be too hot. “That’s cool. I always thought you two were a cute couple.” He reaches for his shake. Taeyong hopes it tastes bitter.

“You thought we were a cute couple,” Taeyong repeats slowly, eyes narrowing as he stares out at the light snowfall. “Then why in the  _ hell _ did you fuck me?”

“Why did you fuck me back?” Mark’s lip quirks, focusing on his  _ Big Mac _ now. The sandwich nearly falls apart in his hands when he picks it up and it gives Taeyong the tiniest bit of satisfaction.

“Don’t answer my question with a question.”

“Yo, did they give you any ketchup at all? This shit is mad dry.”

“Mark!” Taeyong loses the last of his restraint. “You’re avoiding this on purpose! You don’t even  _ like _ ketchup!”

Mark puts the half-eaten sandwich back in the box and tosses his head back with an exasperated, half-assed chuckle. “What do you  _ want _ me to say?” he smiles without amusement. “Do you want me to tell you not to?”

“I don’t  _ want _ to  _ make _ you do anything,” Taeyong turns to face him. Mark snorts. 

Taeyong stares at him harder. Obviously Mark doesn’t care when he reopens the burger box, sinks his teeth into the sloppy mess, and chews while reaching to turn the volume up on some R&B song Taeyong doesn’t recognize. Mark Lee is sweet and kind and considerate— except when he’s being  _ this _ Mark Lee. Stubborn. Inconsiderate. A jerk. Taeyong takes off his seatbelt.

“Where are you going?” Mark stops chewing as Taeyong zips up his overcoat.

“I’m walking home.”

For the first time of the night, Mark shows some sort of genuine emotion and balks, throwing the remains of his burger in the paper bag and turning to face Taeyong full-on. “Are you crazy? It’s snowing and the campus is five miles away. That’s almost an hour and a half walk. You’re  _ not _ walking.”

Taeyong gathers his trash and puts it into the empty McDonald’s bag. Because it’s the polite thing to do.

“Taeyong,” Mark tries again.

Taeyong opens the door and steps out, the wetness from the snow quickly seeping through his sneakers and freezing his feet.

“Oh my G— Are you serious right now?”

A second door slams after Taeyong closes his own and the frustration bubbling hot through his veins propels him to break into a sprint. He runs as fast as he can through the building snow— which turns out to be not very fast at all given his footwear and the intolerable icy wind whipping his face. The roads are icy and slick, and it’s hard to see anything other than the black sky, white snow, or the yellow arches of the restaurant at the end of the parking lot. He doesn’t know what he regrets more— running out of the car, bringing up Johnny, or even getting in the car with Mark months ago in the first place. They all blur together as bad decisions, an acrid taste on his tongue when he tries to swallow it down but he’s too cold to think rationally right now. His fingers grow rigid beneath his gloves, burning when he manages to bend them at the joints and he’s sure his lips have grown pale.

He slows to a stop. Snow flurries kiss his nose and die on his cheeks.

And then he’s enveloped in warmth, wrapping around him from behind and pulling him back.

“Are you crazy?” Mark grits out, beeping his car door unlocked when they reach it. “It’s below 30 degrees out here!” He pushes Taeyong back into the car and jogs to his own side, jumping in and slamming the door behind him. He cranks up the heater to the max setting and rubs his bare hands together with chattering teeth before wrapping them around Taeyong’s gloved ones.

Taeyong swipes his tongue over his dry lips, eyes wide and round when Mark glances up at him and gives a sigh.

“Climb into the backseat,” Mark says, getting out of the car once again.

Taeyong climbs over the center console, the icy slush melting beneath the soles of his shoes, nearly making him lose his grip. He plops down onto the leather seats as Mark slides in through the backseat door, slamming it shut behind him. He spreads his legs out on the seat, drawing Taeyong into his warm embrace, back to chest, arms locked around Taeyong’s waist. Mark smells a lot like the horrible fast food that he had scarfed down moments ago, but beneath it is still  _ his _ smell, one Taeyong is used to. Sweet orange and spicy, like cinnamon.

“Guess this was, like, a bad time for a late-night McDonald’s run, huh?” Mark jokes. “We should’ve just used  _ Doordash _ .”

“Mark.”

Taeyong refuses to look back at Mark’s expression and maybe that’s what it takes for the seriousness to settle in. Mark’s grip around Taeyong’s waist loosens and he reclines back against the seats. A deep exhale seeps out through his nostrils and rather than burden the situation with intense, judgmental stares, Taeyong scoots further in between Mark’s legs and lies back until he’s against Mark’s chest again.

“Of course I don’t want you to do it,” Mark mumbles. His thumb tugs at the loose strings of his hoodie. “But I’m not exactly about planning my life around rejection.”

“How do you know I would’ve rejected you?” Taeyong stares out the window.

“You wouldn’t have,” Mark says. “Because I was never an option in the first place.”

Taeyong sits up at this and cranes his head back to stare at Mark worrying his lip. “Why would you even think that? All the time I spent with you and you really think you aren’t an option, Mark?”

“No, because all the time you spent with me was because  _ Johnny _ was the  _ only _ option.”

Taeyong narrows his eyes. “Are you high right now?”

“Oh come on don’t even front,” Mark sits up, hands dropping to his lap. “You and I both know that, if at any time while we were were fucking, Johnny so happened to beg you for mercy and to take him back, you would have dropped me like a bad habit.”

“That’s not true! That wouldn’t have happened!”

“It already  _ is _ happening.”

Taeyong opens his mouth, then closes it. He doesn’t break the gaze that Mark has trained on him but his mind moves miles away. Mark isn’t indifferent. He was never indifferent. He had just done what any reasonable person would’ve done and protected his heart. It could’ve been so obvious to Taeyong had he actually paid attention. Mark had been hyper-aware of everything— Taeyong’s likes, dislikes, hobbies, and passions. Mark had taken an interest in Taeyong, not because he’s Mark Lee, polite by nature gracious by design, but because Mark  _ cared _ . Mark actually cared about Taeyong. A lot.

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way,” Taeyong says sincerely. “For the record, this—” he gestures between the two of them, “ — wasn’t always just about Johnny. And it’s not now. I like  _ you, _ Mark.”

Mark stares at Taeyong for a minute, head deep beneath his hoodie before a slow smile works its way across his features.

“Oh, I  _ know _ .”

Taeyong frowns. “Excuse me.”

“Johnny asked me if we were messing around weeks ago,” Mark admits, tugging both ends of the hoodie’s drawstring. “I didn’t tell him we were but he told me he wanted to get back with you anyway. And when you hadn’t, I figured the only thing possibly holding you back would be—” Mark drags on with a grin, “ —  _ me _ .”

“I  **_hate_ ** you!” Taeyong groans out in frustration. “You are such a cocky little—”

Mark leans up to capture Taeyong’s lips in a kiss. The unspoken words taste sweet.

**_~penetrate~_ **

Somehow the whole ordeal comes back around full circle.

The start of their whole “situationship” had started in Mark’s car and now a new beginning— the start of their relationship— arises in the same place.

And in the same position.

Taeyong kisses Mark long and slow when Mark thrusts up into him, bodies slick from the blasting heater and from their salted skin melting into one another.

**_~bundle~_ **

And when Mark’s car dies from running the engine and blasting the heat after an hour or two, they stay huddled in the backseat, bundle up beneath Taeyong’s overcoat until the tow truck service Mark’s calls can arrive.

**_~linger~_ **

Mark asks him again about Johnny, just for good measure, maybe even to assuage his own fears a little, but Taeyong doesn’t dwell in the thought for too long.

**_~mind~_ **

Because the heart is always sure of what the mind isn’t and Taeyong’s heart could never be so fickle.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are appreciated, comments are loved!
> 
> My CC: [cc](https://curiouscat.me/AskEnergy)
> 
> My Twitter: [twt](https://twitter.com/energeticalee)
> 
> Link to Fickle Food on Twitter: [twt](https://twitter.com/energeticalee/status/1329708721384120322)


End file.
